Mary's Song
by WriterInTheMaking101
Summary: Noah and Allie meet at the age of seven and nine years old, when Noah and his family move into a run down house on the corner of a fancy street, full of rich people. Noah and Allie soon become good friends, and then as they grow older, great lovers.


**Hi everyone! This is a little fan fiction thing about the Notebook, only there are a few changes. First off, it's set in Princeton, New Jersey. Noah's mother is alive and he has three siblings. Noah is nine years old, and Allie is seven. The Calhoun family moves to a fancy street in Princeton, their house is stuck on the corner of the block. It's run down and dirty. Four houses over, is the Hamilton family. It follows the same story line, only Noah and Allie meet at younger ages. This story is about their friendship as children and the way it blossoms into love as they grow older.**

Summer days in Princeton, New Jersey seemed to drag on for hours longer than the 24 hour time slot allowed them to. But they dragged on in a graceful way, not in the way school days drag on, when the minute hand seems stuck in it's position, never moving from one number to the next. Children felt like they had all day to do whatever they pleased and most of the time, they did. Mothers felt no rush to buy groceries or wash the floors and fathers didn't feel quite so distressed at having to provide food and a home for their family.

On this particular summer day in Princeton however, the day after the Fourth of July, there was things to be done. Nobody wanted to do those things, because the lingering excitement of fireworks and watermelon was still entrancing everyone. But the Calhoun family hadn't paid their rent in two and a half months. Their landlord, an overweight woman with eight children of her own, said they couldn't stay in the apartment a day longer. There was a house for rent, a tiny, dingy house, on the corner of a grand street with luscious gardens and front porches that were occupied with white swings and ever-constant pitchers of lemonade. But it was a house none the less. And, as the saying goes, beggars can not be pickers.

Noah Calhoun was nine years old. The biggest thing on his mind was baseball. Noah, like most of the other nine year old boys in Princeton, lived for baseball. A baseball glove seemed to be permanantly attatched on his hand, his baseball hat on sideways, the way all his friends wore theirs. In fact, as our story begins, Noah was leaning against a sagging pillar of the dingy house, throwing a baseball between his left and right hand.

Nine year old boys, as a general rule, did not get sad or nostalgic, or any of the other things that girls, as a general rule, were supposed to feel on a daily basis. So Noah was concentrating as hard as he could on not dropping the baseball, rather than the fact that this was his fifth house in nine years, and that this was definitely the worst one thus far.

From his spot at the front of the house, his right toe digging into a clump of dry dirt, Noah could hear his parents inside. They were arguing, which shouldn't have been anything new, but everytime Noah heard their raised voices, his heart would pound and his hands would sweat.

"God damn it Grady, you really think this is what I want?" Noah's mother yelled.

"No Lu, I know this isn't what you want. You think I wanted this too? You think I dreamed of living in a run down house with my four kids who're always hungry? You think that's what I want?"

When Noah was younger and they would fight like this, he used to run in and yell at them to stop. And they always did, because he was little and they didn't want to fight in front of him. He couldn't do that anymore. He was only nine, but he was old enough to know that he had better not get in the way of one of their arguments. He'd tried it once, a few months ago and been sent to his room, with a bruise the size of an apple on his arm for his efforts.

Noah tossed the baseball up into the air once more and winced when it fell to the ground, hitting his toe. "Noah, get in here!" His mother's voice called out, shrill and upset. It was always the way she sounded after a fight. Noah waited for a few seconds, to see if she was serious, or if she was just shouting out commands so it would appear as though everything was normal. "**Noah**, are you deaf or something?"

She was serious. "Coming Ma," he shrugged his glove off his hand and stepped inside. The house, simply put, was a disaster. It stunk of beer and cigarrettes. There were five rooms in the house; two bedrooms, a small, grotesque bathroom, a living room and a dining room that would be used also as a kitchen. Noah was to share a room with his two brothers, Dexter and George. He was going to have to sleep on the ground. The bedroom was small and cramped and when Noah had tossed the thin blanket onto the ground, he knew he wasn't going to sleep well at night. His sister, Hazel, had the privelidge of sleeping in the living room, on the red, plush couch his mother had bought for ten cents a few years ago, from their old neighbours.

His mother, Lulu Bradford, stood in the kitchen, holding a broom in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. "Noah," she announced, "you are going to scrub this house until it's spotless."

Noah groaned and rolled his eyes. "Mom, why do I-"

"Noah," his mother said, her lips pressed closely together, that look on her face that screamed don't-mess-with-me, "clean." Lulu took two steps towards Noah, thrust the broom towards him and placed the cloth in his hand. "Don't give me any of your sass."

Noah could remember a time when Lulu was the most fun person he had ever met. She would take him, George and Dexter (that had been before Hazel was born) to the park. She'd pack a picnic lunch and they sit on the grass, laughing and eating sandwiches. She used to play with Noah, run around the house with him and race with him up and down the street. They had never had much money, but they'd always managed. Her and Noah's Daddy fought back then, but it always ended in her running into his arms, laughing or he bringing her roses and a romantic speech.

When Hazel was born, three years ago, that was when things had gone bad. They didn't have enough money anymore. George missed school sometimes to work for Mr. Brown, the man that owned the corner store down the street. His Daddy got drunk a lot and missed days of work due to hangovers. Lulu lost her smile and her happiness, the way she had been before. She never took him to the park anymore and wouldn't dream of racing him on the street.

Sometimes, Noah liked to dream about what life would be like without Hazel. It wasn't that he didn't love his little sister. It was just that he knew, without Hazel, things would be easier. For one, he wouldn't be stuck in a run down, sorry excuse for a house, cleaning it from floor to ceiling. And for another, his Daddy and Mom would get along better, that he was sure of.

It's ironic, though. The way Noah looked back on this afternoon, and he thanked his lucky stars Hazel had been born, and they had moved when they did. Because if they'd never moved into the house on the corner of the block, he'd never have met Allie Hamilton, never fallen in love. And that was something he didn't even like to think about.

"Allie sweetie, you're not going down there," Allie Hamilton's mother said, her voice slightly raised. "They're filthy. You'll catch some kind of disease from them, I just know it."

"Nuh-uh Mama, I won't. They're nice, and they have a boy who looks just my age!" Allie exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "Please Mama! I just want to.. to welcome them to the neighbourhood! I promsie."

"Allie, no. If I have to tell you one more time, I'll get your father."

"Daddy would let me go," Allie muttered under her breath.

"He would not and you know it. Now I'm going upstairs, Grandmother's on the phone. You can play with your dolls if you want, or read a nice book. But you're not to go down to that filfthy house. Promise me Allie," Her mother cupped Allie's chin in her hands.

"Promise Mama," Allie said, crossing her fingers behind her back. As soon as Allie heard the click of her mother's bedroom door closing, Allie pushed open the screen door and ran down the sidewalk, lifting her yellow dress up so it didn't trail on the sidewalk. When Allie reached the little house, on the corner of the block, she rubbed her hands together and fluffed up her hair. It wasn't that bad, she tried to tell herself.

Allie walked up to the wooden door, the yellow paint peeling and falling in little clusters onto the ground, and knocked twice with her fist. After a few moments a pretty woman, with blonde hair and a faded red dress on came to the door. "Hi sweetie. Are you lost?" The lady asked Allie.

Allie smiled shyly and shook her head. "No ma'am. I live down the street," she pointed with her index finger as a visual. "I saw that your family was moving in today and I saw you had a little boy 'bout my age. I thought maybe I could say hi and welcome him to the neighbourhood?"

The lady smiled. "I'm sure Noah would like that very much. How old are you?"

"I'm seven years old."

"Noah's nine. I'll get him for you, one moment." The woman went back inside and Allie smiled.

Allie decided that even though the lady's dress looked old and even though their house sort of looked like it was falling apart, she was going to like Noah's family. She could just feel it. A boy came to the door a few moments later, with dark blonde hair, a baseball glove stuck under his armpit, a broom in his right hand and a blue wash cloth in his left.

"Hi," Allie smiled brightly. "I'm Allison Hamilton, but call me Allie."

Noah surveyed Allie and smiled after a few moments. "Hey. I'm Noah Calhoun. Do you like baseball?"

Allie bit her lip and shrugged, smiling to display the lack of her two front teeth. "Sure." Truth was, Allie had never played baseball in her life. Her Daddy played sometimes, on Saturday, with his friends. She watched and brought them beers when they got thirsty, but she never actually played. In fact, Allie thought baseball looked sort of boring. But in her seven year old heart, Allie was sure she was in love. And if being in love meant having to play baseball, then so be it.


End file.
